


A Pisces walks into a bar on Halloween...

by itsallaboutflowermetaphors



Category: Crash Pad (2017), Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drinking, Duck Tape bar, Huxloween, Huxloween Day 20, I know nothing about Dawson's Creek except the stuff I read on the wiki in an hour, M/M, Misunderstandings, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Stensland being a disaster, because Stensland, because Stensland again, couples costume, kylux adjacent, mentions of Dawson's Creek, mentions of canon amputation/prosthetic, tagged as Kylux because they are the target audience, very silly and not at all scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallaboutflowermetaphors/pseuds/itsallaboutflowermetaphors
Summary: Stensland isn’t used to the way people celebrate Halloween in America yet, and he probably never will be. Still, when the day comes around, he puts on the same costume that he’s worn the past few years and treks to the bar a mile down the road from his house.Written for Huxloween Day 20, Couples Costume





	A Pisces walks into a bar on Halloween...

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in two days because I saw the prompt and loved it. I also rewatched Logan Lucky and Crash Pad a few days ago. This was supposed to be a drabble. A big thank you to Ash for beta reading!  
> Their costumes are linked in the end notes.  
> About the title.. Stensland is a Pisces in canon and I googled it and he's all the worst things a Pisces could possibly be.

Stensland isn’t used to the way people celebrate Halloween in America yet, and he probably never will be. Still, when the day comes around, he puts on the same costume that he’s worn the past few years and treks to the bar a mile down the road from his house. A co-worker at Soft Solutions Fine Furnishing told him about a costume party that happens there every year. Stensland trusts them, has to, really: he’s new to West Virginia and Boone County, and he doesn’t know how stuff is done in the middle of nowhere.  
The bar, the Duck Tape, looks different today. There are carved pumpkins sitting on the front porch and orange string lights hanging of the railing and awning. It’s probably been like this for the entirety of October, but Soft Solutions and Walmart are in the opposite direction from Stensland’s house, so he hasn’t been here for a month.  
Inside, music is playing and the soft chatter of other patrons fills Stensland’s ears when he enters. There are decorations indoors, too, more string lights hanging from ceiling beams accompanied by paper cut-out ghosts. Most customers are wearing costumes, too, Stensland sees a pirate, what he thinks is a vampire, and a Harley Quinn. He makes a beeline for the bar counter, sitting in a booth by himself seems depressing and he isn’t one for darts or billiards. The bar is U-shaped and Stensland can see the sink from where he sits when he leans over the counter. He grimaces at his unfortunate choice. Then there’s someone stepping in front of the sink, right into Stensland’s sight, so he quickly averts his gaze from their crotch. He’s already blushing.  
“What’d you like?” they say, their voice the southern drawl Stensland has come to expect. He looks up and right into the dark eyes of the most beautiful man he has ever seen. The man—the barkeeper, his mind supplies—has an angular face and a big nose, dark thick hair that falls to his shoulders and pouty lips framed by a mustache and goatee.  
“Uhmm, fuck, I dunno,” Stensland says not very eloquently while the man puts a white napkin on the counter in front of him.  
“Allergies or dietary restrictions?” the bartender asks. Stensland shakes his head and feels his bandana begin to slip off his head.  
“I can make you somethin’ seasonal?” the man offers while Stensland re-ties his bandana. He nods. “Nothing crazy strong, please,” he says, remembering the pub crawl Grady forced him into.  
The hot bartender nods and moves away from the sink to prepare the drink, leaving Stensland to daydream and stare into space. When he returns, he puts a highball glass on the napkin and pushes it towards Stensland.  
“Enjoy,” he says and turns to serve the next patron. Left alone Stensland lifts the pale orange drink and sniffs it—apple and something else—before taking a sip. It’s good, fruity-sweet and vaguely alcoholic. He keeps taking sips while he watches the bar (and more importantly, the bartender) and eating salted peanuts.  
Before long, the bartender is back in front of Stensland and giving him a small smile.  
“Good?” he asks nodding at the half-full glass.  
“Yeah, really good,” Stensland says, “What’s in it?” The bartender is washing glasses now, using a glass scrubber that is suction-cupped to the bottom of the sink. A less sober Stensland would have very dirty thoughts based on the bartender’s hand motion.  
“Apple cider, pumpkin flavored vodka and a splash of club soda,” the man explains, still washing glasses. Stensland watches him and for the first time notices that the man is only using his right hand, the left one is a black prosthetic with moving fingers, meeting the man’s flesh between mid-forearm and elbow. Stensland keeps sipping his cocktail and wonders how he missed the, well, missing hand before. He comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter.  
“I’m Stensland,” he offers instead.  
“Clyde Logan,” the bartender replies, “another one?” He’s nodding at the now empty glass between them.  
“Yes, please!” Stensland watches as Clyde puts his old glass into the sink and prepares a new drink. His movements are fluid and effortless—practiced.  
Clyde puts the cocktail on a new napkin and slides it across the counter to Stensland.  
“Careful,” he says, “the sweetness disguises the alcohol. Maybe take it a bit slower”  
Okay, maybe Stensland is already a bit tipsy. “Will do,” he says anyway after taking the first sips.  
But before long that drink is gone too and Stensland is properly drunk. He’s barely had beers since the Grady disaster, and his alcohol tolerance must’ve decreased. To make matters worse, Clyde, still very good-looking, is back and washing glasses right in front of him. Stensland forces his eyes away from Clyde’s hand and up his body. Clyde is wearing mint green grey-ish button up with two blue and green stripes down the front and it suddenly something clicks in Stensland’s mind. Clyde is wearing a costume, too.  
“We’re matching!” he exclaims loudly and Clyde looks up.  
“Huh? What’d you mean?” he asks.  
“Our costumes!” Stensland says and Clyde gives him an odd look. The ginger gestures down his body. He’s wearing denim overalls with big streaks of white and red paint smudged on them and a maroon sweater. The bandana is denim too. “I’m Joey Potter,” he declares, “and you are Pacey Witter, my future husband!”  
“What?” Clyde asks slowly, clearly confused, well, clear to anyone but a drunk Stensland who is ecstatic that someone else in this bar in the middle of nowhere is dressed up as a character from the iconic and award-winning television drama series that is Dawson’s Creek. Not to mention that this someone is also his hot bartender. With that, Stensland also abandons his belief that bartenders aren’t to be flirted with because anyone who dresses up as a Dawson’s Creek character for Halloween has to be courted.  
“You are dressed up as Pacey Witter in the outfit from the twenty-second episode of season 6; ‘Joey Potter and the Capeside Redemption’ of the WB drama Dawson’s Creek,” he giggles, wants to impress Clyde with his knowledge about his costume, “and I’m Joey Potter, in the outfit from ‘Crime and Redemption’. A memorable look, really.” Stensland fixes his bandana again and then jokes, “Don’t you recognize me, husband?” He’s leaning onto the counter now, looking into Clyde’s eyes and smiling a dopey smile before letting his gaze drift down and check him out shamelessly.  
“I’m not dressed up,” Clyde says slowly and the words take a few moments to register in Stensland’s drunken brain, but when they do, he sobers immediately. “Oh fuck,” he mutters and “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Clyde isn’t wearing a costume, he just wears shirts that look like they are straight out of teen dramas from the early 2000’s.  
He has embarrassed himself, wants to leave but hasn’t paid yet, resisting the urge to just leave as he reaches into the breast pocket of his overalls. He pulls a few bills out and drops them on the counter before hopping off the black vinyl barstool. It all happens very quickly. “Wait!” a deep voice behind him calls and Stensland still wants to run and hide in embarrassment, he got drunk and assumed stupid shit. Really, he should just never assume stuff, it has never ended in his favour. Not with Morgan Dott and not now. Still, he turns around to face Clyde Logan again.  
“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say again. He’s not looking at Clyde, his eyes are pinned to the money next to the empty glass on the counter.  
“Hey, it’s alright,” Clyde responds from a different direction than Stensland expects, he looks up and Clyde is standing next to him instead of behind the bar. He puts his hand on Stensland’s left shoulder and rubs it. Tries to comfort him. “Misunderstandings happen,” he murmurs, “It’s alright, you don’t have t’ leave.”  
He smiles at Stensland, it’s gentle, doesn’t feel condescending, and Stensland sits back down onto the barstool. Clyde rubs his shoulder for another moment before collecting the bills on the counter and carefully tucking them back into Stensland’s breast pocket.  
“D’you want a pop?” he asks, and Stensland nods, teary-eyed.  
“Mountain Dew?”  
Stensland nods again. He’s grown fond of West Virginia’s most popular soft drink since moving here.  
Clyde replaces his glass and Stensland lets his fingers drift through the condensation.  
“Thank you,” he says after a while when Clyde is washing up again.  
“What for?” the bartender inquires.  
Stensland shrugs, isn’t really sure himself. “Being kind to a weirdo?” he offers, a weary smile on his face.  
“Y’don’t have to thank me for that,” Clyde replies, his voice a gentle rumble.  
Later, Stensland pays his tab, and Clyde doesn’t protest this time, possibly because Stensland isn’t just throwing random bills on the counter.  
“Are you driving?” Clyde asks when Stensland slips off his barstool again.  
“No, haven’t got a car or license,” the ginger replies.  
Clyde frowns, “Did you bring a jacket?”  
Only then does Stensland realise that he’s about to trek home in late autumn wearing only a thin jumper. “Fuck, no. I forgot,” he curses, “because of all this.” He gestures to his costume again.  
“I can drive you,” Clyde offers.  
“You can?” Stensland asks, glancing around the bar. The crowd has died down, but there’s still a few patrons left.  
“Yeah, the car’s modified,” the bartender replies, and Stensland cringes. Trust him to drop a brick.  
“That’s not what I meant,” Stensland mutters, “you’re working. Can you just leave?”  
Clyde nods and says, “Earl can take care of the bar. Do you want me to drive you?”  
Once again Stensland nods, and Clyde rounds the counter to get to Stensland and then the door. He leads him to a dark blue three-door and they get in.  
“Where to?” Clyde asks after buckling in, and Stensland gives his address. As they pull out of the Duck Tape’s parking lot, he notices that Clyde steers with a knob on the steering wheel instead of the wheel itself. Stensland watches him for the rest of the drive, but it only takes a few moments until Clyde pulls into the driveway.  
“Thank you,” Stensland tells the man on the driver’s seat after turning to face him. “Really,” he says, touching Clyde’s hand on the gear shift between them.  
“Will you drop by again?” Clyde asks, sounding hopeful.  
Stensland affirms the question with a nod without hesitation before getting out of the car. “See you soon, Clyde,” he announces before shutting the door. On his way to the front door, Stensland thinks that maybe he should have asked ‘his future husband’ for his phone number.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Here's [Stensland's](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/dawsonscreek/images/2/2d/Greenstilljoey.jpeg/revision/latest?cb=20151204175044>Stensland's</a>%20and%20<a%20href=) and [Clyde's](http://dawsonscreek.wikia.com/wiki/Joey_Potter_and_the_Capeside_Redemption?file=622witter.jpeg)  
> "costumes".  
> You can find me on tumblr under the same name as here! I'm always ready to talk about Kylux, the adjacents and my own fics!


End file.
